Awkward
by Liebling
Summary: ‘Kissing Cedric was what Romance was made of.’ Set during OotP, Harry&Cho an explanation of - the - kiss :)


The hard thing was, she didn't know what she wanted. Not even a little bit. She wasn't sure of anything just then, not sure of the sky or the moon, or Him, or Her, or the fact that burnt marshmallows were the best, or that she loved her family, she was so unsure. A huddle of confusion, a cloud of darkness.  
  
And when she confessed her '-likeness-' for the boy, she meant it, of course, but just for a minute. For a quick minute. She always meant what she said, Ravenclaws' are tactful and they think much before they speak. And she, of course, had never been an exception, to anything.  
  
It would've been hard to miss the fact that he liked her as well. So much. Maybe it was her love of Quidditch, maybe it was her good looks, maybe it was because she came across as confident, maybe because she was by most means unreachable. Even he didn't know.  
  
Maybe she liked him because he'd saved the world numerous times, or because he was leading the rebellious group against Umbridge. Maybe it was for the sheer fact that he liked her, or because he looked at her like he truly understood her, because it was awkward, because it seemed perfect.  
  
Because it was perfect.  
  
He reminded her of Cedric sometimes. Just sometimes. The rest of the times he reminded her of Harry, Harry Potter. Just Harry. Perhaps he reminded her of Cedric because Cedric too had the same experience as Harry had had. Or because everything with Cedric was just so awkward, and that was what made it perfect.  
  
It was almost like, "No, I don't want to kiss you, that would be wrong." Almost. But she knew better, she knew he wanted to kiss her, and for a second she wanted to kiss him as well.  
  
Forget about being understood. Forget about wanting to be patted on the back.  
  
She wanted to be kissed. And kissed by someone who wasn't Cedric Blaine Diggory.  
  
So he kissed her, and it was just that simple. After all, they'd been sitting '-so-' close, it was bound to happen. She would never be able to shake off his smell, the smell of ancient, worn, parchment and baked potato.  
  
The hot tears continued to run down her candy-cane red cheeks, but that didn't matter, not just then.  
  
Soon enough, the kiss was over. Just as soon as it had started and she just stared at him, the tears still flowed freely and she looked over at him. He turned his head, away from her gaze, almost as if he was embarrassed.  
  
Kissing Harry wasn't like kissing Cedric. Kissing Cedric felt right and perfect, kissing Cedric was usually done in a crowded library where everyone was watching, and the two were so oblivious. When she kissed Cedric it was as though she was in her safe place, a place where no harm could be done to her. Kissing Cedric was what Romance was made of.  
  
Kissing Harry, to her, felt dull, silly, and petty in comparison.  
  
She began to walk out of the room, the Room of Requirements, and she turned her head back towards him. His cheeks were turning a dark red and his hair was so mussed up he decided on raking a hand through it. Although that probably wouldn't make it any less messy.  
  
"Harry," she said grabbing her book bag, "aren't you coming?"  
  
He looked a bit lost then, as if he had lost his path, "In a bit, you go along then."  
  
"Okay," she said, "I'll see you-" a brief pause "-later. Thanks for talking with me, it was, it was, uh, nice."  
  
And then she walked quickly out of the room.  
  
He watched her retreat back to her common room.  
  
Maybe she'd tell everyone about her kiss with Harry James Potter. About his boyish embarrassment, the perfect awkward situation, the smell of potato and parchment, his lopsided grin. And maybe she wouldn't.  
  
Or maybe she'd just go right up to her dormitory. The dormitory crowded with silly pictures of Cedric as a child riding a broomstick, or Cedric with cake all over his face.  
  
She'd probably try to fall asleep on the pillow that still smelled of ginger and the grass out on the Quidditch pitch, the pillow that smelled just like Cedric. And more than likely she'd be wishing that Harry, indeed had been Cedric.  
  
~*~  
  
La Fin 


End file.
